Wet Confessions
I never planned to go to an orgy.
But after my divorce, I promised myself I’d reclaim the years of pleasure I’d wasted one moan at a time.
It was Camille, my sultry, red-lipped neighbour who first whispered the invitation while sipping from a crystal glass of red wine.
“The Circle meets once a month. Hidden. Masked. Safe and sinfully freeing. They don’t invite just anyone, Simone.”
She let her eyes slide down my body.
“They invited you.”